


Take What I Can Get

by memoriesofrain



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Decisions, Dorian Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dorian Pavus Has Issues, Dorian just wants love, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Inquisitor is a good friend, Iron Bull Flirts, M/M, One Night Stands, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Poor Dorian, Prompt Fic, Tevinter Imperium, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, background inquisitor/josephine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-21 03:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memoriesofrain/pseuds/memoriesofrain
Summary: Dorian had always fallen in love too easily. He didn't think the South would be any different than his experience in Tevinter. And he was right for the most part.Then he met Bull and suddenly things are different but not.But he'll take whatever love he can get. Even if it hurts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt given to me anonymously by an anon:
> 
> "Dorian from DAI prompt (any pairing) w/ 77. “Maybe I’m meant to be alone.”
> 
> And it's just gotten longer and longer, so enjoy the first part! :)

He’s always had bad taste in men, a fault he can’t bring himself to fix. He falls in love easily, won over by pretty words and physical touch. It doesn’t have to be gentle, just the act of someone wanting to touch him is enough sometimes to sooth the ache that settles in his chest when the nights are drawn out into stark loneliness. He likes hearing his bed partner’s praise. “Such a good fuck,” they’d say, “so beautiful,” said others, and Dorian greedily clung to them as they shooed him out of their beds when they were done with him.

One man kept him for a while, back in Tevinter. Rilienus was gentle in all the ways the other men weren’t. He spoke only loving words to Dorian, always gentle, always willing to talk with him. Smoke clung to him after practice and Dorian delighted in burying his face in the crook of Rilienus’ neck to inhale the scent mixing with the spiced undertones of the man’s perfume. Dorian believed he’d found his prince charming, something that shouldn’t have existed in Tevinter, not for him. But he was perfect. To Dorian he was perfect.

And then Rilienus told him that he was getting married.

“Married? To whom?” Dorian asked his voice cracking.

Rilienus sighed, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix the disarray it had become. “Her name is Aesthia,” he said softly. “Her bloodline is strong and my father thinks that the pair of us will have a good chance at producing a powerful heir.” He moved his hand to run lazy circles along Dorian’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

Dorian grabbed at his lover’s hand. “You’re sorry? Rilienus, can’t you-“

Rilienus pulled his hand back roughly. “I can’t, Dorian! Don’t you understand?”

Bitter anger flushed his cheeks. “So it was a lie? You pretend to love me for months because, what? I’m a good fuck? A pretty thing for you to play with until you decide that it’s over? Just ‘I’m getting married, thanks for this final round of sex’?”

Rilienus sneered at him with contempt. “You know that’s not what this is, don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then why tell me this after you made love to me? After all those endearing comments about love and false promises?” Dorian felt the tears forming and hurriedly blinked them away.  

The man sighed. “I do love you, Dorian.”

“Then why do this to me?”

“I wanted you one more time.” The confession is soft but no less heartbreaking. “Without it being goodbye.”

Dorian clenched his fists into the sheets. “So this is it then.”

“I have a duty to fulfill, I can’t just run away from it.”

“But what about…” Dorian let his voice trail away and instead stared desperately at Rilienus. He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud, to bare his heartbreak so openly.

The other man broke his gaze, fiddling with the sheet that hid their bareness. “It was never going to last, Dorian.”

He felt his heart threaten to shatter in his chest and tears gather in his eyes once more, this time not fighting them as they slowly dripped down his face, no doubt pulling the kohl down as well. A metallic iron seeped into his mouth from biting his tongue to hold back the sobs that threatened to burst from his mouth. Dorian didn’t spare his lover a glance as he got out of what had seemingly been _their_ bed. He wondered if Rilienus would christen the same bed he’d laid with Dorian in with Aesthia.

He’d never felt so naked in his life, never so desperate to beg for returned affections. After his clothes were back on he turned to look at Rilienus. His face tight and tears glistening against his high cheekbones. “For what it’s worth,” Dorian said, his voice thick with emotion, “I loved you too.”

 

His bad luck with men continued when he fled his home. He was an “exotic beauty” according to his first love in the South, something that deserved to be fawned over and enjoyed. Dorian kept that in mind when his first love’s hands grew rough and the bruises clung harshly to his skin in mottled patterns. His exotic beauty did not earn him a bed that night and he felt his chest tighten uncomfortably in his chest when the man spit on him before throwing him out of the house.

Redcliffe was better in that he had Felix. Fleeting though the meetings were, Dorian treasured the moments he got to spend with his best friend even if they were mostly about how to stop Alexius. Felix, for all the affection and acceptance he’d given Dorian, had never been a man that Dorian fell in love with. It was probably because he felt too much like a brother to fall into the other category. That didn’t stop Dorian from wishing that they had fallen in love with each other. How much easier that would have been. Alexius had married for love and did not scorn Dorian for his proclivities with men. In addition, Felix was the best man Dorian had ever met, which is probably why Dorian couldn’t fall in love with him; Dorian didn’t deserve a man as good as Felix.

The candles flickered as the wax continued melting away at the little desk they were standing at in the little nook in the chantry. It was one of the few places that the two could meet comfortably without Alexius getting suspicious.

 “Dorian,” Felix said. Dorian turned his attention away from the note he’d been writing for Felix to give to the Herald when they arrived with a questioning hum. “Someday someone is going to see how perfect you are.”

The comment startled a laugh out of him. Of course his best friend would say that, he always thought Dorian deserved more. “Of course I’m perfect, Felix,” Dorian said with a flourish at his body. “Bred to be as such anyway.”

Felix shook his head. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Dorian turned his attention back to the parchment and continued writing. “I know.”

Felix hesitated before putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was cold, the Ferelden chill invading Dorian’s skin through his armor-free arm. He could see the telltale bruises barely visible on Dorian’s upper arm, large and in the shape of a man’s hand, turning a purple-ish yellow. If he looked at Dorian’s face he’d see the redness of his eyes, almost completely masked by his kohl liner and the healing split lip that must have been coated with elfroot to have healed that much already. He’d seen his friend hurt too often by people he fell in love with and sometimes he privately cursed the Maker because of it. “Why do you do this?”

Dorian paused and twirled the quill between his fingers absentmindedly. The question sits heavily between them and Dorian resists the urge to shrug Felix’s concern off and give a sarcastic answer, but he knew that wasn’t what needed to happen here. “They like me.” It sounds even more pathetic now that he’s said it aloud. Dorian can feel Felix’s flinch through the grip the man has on his shoulder and decides to revise his statement. “They like me enough.”

“If they liked you they wouldn’t do this to you.”

Dorian snorts unattractively and draws a small heart on a spare piece of parchment in front of him. “Perhaps,” he concedes that but presses on, “but it isn’t all that bad. They’re nice for a time and I can live with that.” Maybe. Possibly. Maker he’s so lonely he just wants he wants he wants. “Besides Tevinter does not have love.”

“But we aren’t in Tevinter and you want love, you want romance, don’t try to hide that from me. I know you too well.”

He doesn’t say anything and the two settle back into silence.

 

The Inquisition is… well it’s actually exactly how he expected it to be. There are hordes of people cramped together in Haven and more often than not he finds himself wondering if they all sleep together in a giant pile like dogs before scratching the idea as ridiculous. It smells horrendous and the beer is admittedly not as bad as he raves it is; he feels alive.

The Inquisitor is a lovely little woman, full of questions and open for discussions and comparisons. He finds himself purposefully sitting down on one of the boxes that are around his usual haunt so she doesn’t have to look up so far to see his face. He enjoys her in the same way he enjoys Felix and though it scares him a little at first at how quickly he’s grown to like Senna, he finds that it’s also comforting. He especially likes hearing about her attempts at wooing their lady Ambassador Montilyet.

The other members of the Herald’s inner circle regard him with distrust and at times outright disdain depending on the situation. Solas talks to him across the way at a safe distance as if wary of Dorian approaching him like a sickness. Though he supposes he doesn’t blame the elf considering where Dorian is from. Blackwall spits like his first love in the South and it almost makes Dorian nostalgic. Almost. Sera calls him names and plays pranks on him whether to humanize him to the others or to humiliate him he isn’t quite sure yet.

Varric is fun to talk to, his stories are wild and if all else fails he can bring up his friendship with Mae. He’d been more than a bit surprised when the dwarf had mentioned they were cousin-in-laws, but he supposed Thorold’s family had to be out in the world somewhere. Josephine liked asking his opinion on garnering support from other nobles and the possibilities of getting any support from Tevinter. Although the latter was unlikely they had fun talking about it at the very least. Cullen was also fun when you caught him an hour or so after training, when he was settled at a makeshift chess set and would play a few games before he remembered to be cautious of him. He treasured those moments.

Cassandra and Vivienne treated him with the same amount of annoyance and disdain which only spurred his teasing and smart remarks. It didn’t win him any favors but it was too much fun to see their lips curl downwards and the huff of disgust to escape. Leliana knew too much for his comfort but he respected her and admired her taste in shoes. Finally someone who knew fashion that wasn’t all Orlesian pomp and flair.

The Iron Bull was the one who really surprised him though.

The Qunari observed him with casual glances that were no doubt calculating and noting everything he did, but talked to him like he would anyone else. They tossed barbs at each other like it was a game to see how the other would respond and Dorian found himself throwing extra comments out when they were out with the Inquisitor to hear the Qunari talk. Of course the Iron Bull smelled like he’d never taken a bath in his life and was obnoxious and loud and a Qunari, but he wasn’t bad. Not that Dorian would ever admit that out loud.

 

It wasn’t until they had been settled into Skyhold for a month that Dorian noticed a pattern. He’d wake up, go about his usual business then conveniently park himself in the tavern when the Chargers would come back from any mission or training they’d done. They’d be sweaty and gross, oftentimes blood was still smattering their clothes and their uproarious laughter would bounce around the space. Dorian would sit on the outskirts, close enough to the bar to not be too suspicious but angled so he could stare at the Iron Bull from his seat.

He’d started to admire the ruggedly handsome features of the man, mapping out the scars that dug into his flesh and following their path across his features. The eyepatch reminded him vaguely of his past dreams of being a pirate and wondered what it’d feel like beneath the pads of his fingers. The horns were different; large, masses of bone that stuck out as broadly as his shoulders and he wondered what it’d be like to grab hold of them and yank the man down so that they were face-to-face. And his hands, huge like the rest of him and scarred, missing fingers and chunks of flesh and, from the few times he’d felt them through his robes, so warm and gentle.

It was then he knew he’d fallen in love again.

He’d been trying to be better about it, falling in love. He couldn’t allow himself to be hurt for a scrap of love, not when he had so much to do for the Inquisition, not when he had so much to prove to those who still doubted him. Not when he watched Bull take multiple partners up to his quarters, that grin on his face that made his eye twinkle.

He goes to the Inquisitor instead.

Senna’s in her quarters going through documents on her desk with her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. He’s always found it adorable and he knows Josephine does as well. He coughs to get her attention and he watches as she breaks into a grin. “Hello, Dorian,” her voice is light and cheerful as if she hasn’t been doing paperwork for the last couple of hours. “What can I do for you?”

He wants to just talk with her like usual, throw around some gossip before switching to hypothetical situations that leave them laughing, but his brain can’t catch up with his tongue apparently. “I’m in love with Bull,” tumbles out of his mouth before he can so much as return her friendly greeting.

Her eyes widen and she blinks at him before she puts down her quill and approaches him. She doesn’t say anything, not at first, just grabs his arm and directs him to her couch. They sit in silence and Dorian can feel the anxiety creep inside him before Senna talks. “Is that bad?”

Is it bad? Dorian isn’t quite sure if it truly is or not. On one hand, Bull has never refused anyone who wants to sleep with him, he’s seen anyone from a waifish elf to a burly soldier take a night with Bull. On the other hand, it isn’t permanent, just a fleeting night that passes too quickly before dawn breaks.  Not that he has any experience with permanent, he reminds himself. He could enjoy a single night, just like the others. “I suppose not, but…”

Senna picks up on what he’s trying to say with all the tenderness of a mother. “But Qunari don’t fall in love in the same way we do.”

“Precisely.”

She puts her hand on his leg and rubs soothing circles to try and help him relax. “Are you sure it’s love? It could just be a crush.”

He gives her a mirthless laugh and turns sad eyes to her. “I wish it was just that, a silly passing infatuation. Unfortunately, I’ve always fallen in love easily. Too easily, Felix used to say.” Senna didn’t say anything and Dorian continued to fill the silence. “But he has an open door policy, right? Perhaps I could just make sure I got their before anyone else? He could have me first, then shoo me out to enjoy someone else, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Dorian.” Dorian paused his rant and looked at Senna. He could see her mouth pulled into a frown and the way her eyebrows were peaked. He could almost say she looked like she might cry. “Why don’t you talk to Bull?”

He shook his head. “I can’t be selfish like that just because I have feelings for the man, that’s not fair to him.”

“And you think making yourself miserable is any better?”

“I’m used to it. I take what I can get and it’s enough.”

“But you-“ Dorian held a hand up to halt her rebuttal and looked down at his lap.

“Maybe I’m meant to be alone.”

Senna whimpered at the statement and Dorian accepted the desperate hug she pulled him into. He mumbled soft reassurances that felt empty in his mouth, but she seemed to accept them. He left soon after, reassuring her that he was alright and that things would be fine. But he had made his decision:

He would take whatever he could get from Bull, even if it wasn’t love, it’d be enough.

It always was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! I had a death in my family and then I was super intimidated by writing the smut in this chapter. It's only my second time ever writing smut (maybe third???) so I hope it sounds okay! 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy~!

Bull’s door is never locked, it’s a fact that the man boosts about, that he never has to go looking for bed partners. It helps that he isn’t picky, Dorian decides. He himself would say that there are aspects of a partner that Dorian is more inclined to, but he’s never afforded true pickiness for himself. He counts himself lucky when someone spares him the time of day.

Even with Bull’s open door policy, it takes him almost a week to muster up the courage to come to the man’s room. He takes time in his own grooming himself, making sure he paints on his confidence with the kohl around his eyes, the special small clothes he’d bought in Val Royeaux clinging to him in all the right ways. He wears something nice, but an article he doesn’t care too much about just in case. He adds an extra dab of perfume behind his ears, a warm, spicy floral scent that lingers like an old friend. Vanity is a shield Dorian has clung to since he’d first been called pretty.

The walk to the Herald’s Rest is quiet and he feels restless in his own body. Why is this so different? He hears uproarious laughter before he enters the tavern and he feels his shoulder’s ease into a more relaxed position. He puts on his best face and walks in before he can second guess himself.

The place is reasonably full, and he can see the Chargers all seated together in their corner. He should go up to Cabot and order a drink, mingle a while, perhaps tempt Bull for something more exciting upstairs but Dorian can’t get himself to move. Instead he makes his way to the stairs, putting an extra sway to his hips than he usually has. Bull catches him before he can reach the stairs and gives him a curious look. A sultry smirk makes its way on Dorian’s face and he playfully quirks a finger in a come hither gesture. The grin he gets back is positively lewd and Dorian feels his cheeks flush as he continues up the stairs to Bull’s room.

The room is cleaner than he’d thought it’d be and Bull’s multitude of axes are propped in the corner. He sees little knickknacks on top of the small dresser that he’s seen Bull pickup every once in a while on their travels. He would’ve continued examining the room had Bull not suddenly joined him, the door closing with a clunk.

“So, you finally decided to come see me,” Bull said, his lewd grin from before seemingly getting bigger.

Dorian sniffed haughtily. “You’re the one with the open door policy, I’m just reaping the benefits so to speak,” Dorian replied. He hopes it sounded more convincing aloud than it had in his head.

Bull hummed and took a step closer to him. His large hand cupped Dorian’s neck tenderly and laid his thumb against Dorian’s bottom lip. It’s so achingly intimate and Dorian can’t help but feel like something treasured in that moment. “What can I do for you then, Dorian?”

It takes a few moments for Dorian to find his words, but Bull is patient. “I thought you would know what I needed, that’s what you do isn’t it?”

Bull nods. “You want me to choose?”

“Do you think you can’t?”

Bull laughs at that, full bellied and beautiful. “No I got it, just making sure. You can ask for anything and we could work it out.” He says it so confidently, like Dorian asking him for anything is a small thing. “But you have to promise me, if I do anything that you don’t like, anything at all, and you want me to stop, you say ‘Katoh.’” The Iron Bull’s face is so serious that Dorian doesn’t even question it. “You say that and I’ll stop, no questions asked, okay?”

“Yes, yes, I got it thank you.” Bull gave him a hard look and Dorian rolled his eyes. “Yes, I promise I will say ‘Katoh’ if it gets to be too much, alright?”

Bull gave a small rumble of approval before he let his thumb pull Dorian’s lip down just a bit, letting the lips part. Dorian slowly brushed his tongue against the grooves along the pad of the thumb. It’s salty and there is the sharp bitter flavor of Ferelden ale that’s mostly gone. The soft groan that Bull released sent a spark of arousal through him.

He reached his hands up, wrapped them around Bull’s horns and directed Bull down until their lips met. It was hungry. Primal. Their teeth clanking uncomfortably before Bull shifts Dorian’s head to a better position. Then it’s achingly perfect; Bull trailing his tongue against the seam of Dorian’s lips before Dorian let him in. The taste of Ferelden ale was stronger as Bull’s tongue maps out his mouth and Dorian could have sworn he tasted hints of citrus.

The pitiful whine that left his throat as Bull pulled away made the other man smile as he slowly backed them both towards the bed. Dorian fell back onto the mattress with the firm press of Bull’s hand against his chest and he wiggled his way to the middle.

Bull’s hands trail along the fabric of his robes before, with a delicacy Dorian didn’t know he possessed, unclasped the buckles holding the material in place. Dorian moved his hands to help, but Bull gently grabbed his hands and guided them above his hand.

“Just relax,” Bull said with a wink. “I’ve got you.”

Dorian felt his cheeks flush hotly and he silently scolded himself for acting like some chaste Sister. His focus returned back to Bull when the man finished undressing Dorian’s upper body. He dutifully lifted his hips and then upper back to allow Bull to pull his robes completely off of him and onto the floor. Bull made an appreciative noise and leaned down to begin placing kisses along his collarbone and down his chest.

This is what Dorian was familiar with. Sex was sex, he didn’t have to think about feelings especially when Bull captured his nipple. Dorian moaned as the nub was worried between Bull’s teeth before the wet drag of his tongue soothed the ache. He lavished in the attention, delighting in the gentle massage of the Qunari’s hands against his arms running up until their hands met. Bull didn’t even hesitate when he laced their fingers together briefly, giving a comforting squeeze before repeating the action.

Dorian fought back the wave of emotion that hit him unexpectedly at the action, instead wrapping his legs around the Qunari’s waist attempting to pull him closer. All it did was elicit a rumble of laughter from Bull that sent pleasant vibrations through his body.

“Impatient aren’t you?” Bull asked, his nose grazing Dorian’s jaw. “I already told you, I’m going to take care of you. Take a deep breath, you’re way to tense right now.” Bull’s hands were still laced together with his own. “It’s just you,” a chaste kiss against the skin right below his ear, “and me,” a warm brush of air against his ear that sent shivers down his spine. “Focus on this moment.”

He wasn’t aware he was letting his slight distress interrupt their moment, but Bull just continued to reassure him. To lock him into this moment, where lips and tongue and sensual touches were all that mattered. Where the little gasps and cries of Bull’s name were beautiful. Where each moan was a confession on Dorian’s tongue, tied up in more pressing matters like the weight of Bull’s cock against his tongue and the Bull’s tongue dancing with his own. Where Bull’s gentle pets through his hair were more grounding than trying to force himself not to fall further in love with the other man.

It was too late anyway.

He’s a garble of moans masquerading as words by the time Bull gently prods his opening with an oil slicked finger. “Relax, big guy,” Bull said, slowly pushing in the first finger. “I’ve got you.”

Dorian wants to tell him, to tell Bull that he always has him. Forever if he wanted. But that isn’t what comes out, even when he’s delirious with pleasure. “ _More._ ”

Bull rubs a thumb against the jutting bone of Dorian’s hip, continuing the lazy pumps of his finger in Dorian. “Patience,” he said as if Dorian had any more to offer. He continues at the same steady pace edging deliciously close to the spot inside him that makes him feel sparks across his spine. Bull continues his game, listening with a grunt of approval as Dorian mumbles his praise. After a while Bull nudges a second finger against the hole where already one finger is stretching it. “I’m pushing the next one in okay?”

It’s a tighter fit, but nothing Dorian can’t handle. If anything he relishes in the delectable burn and the jolting pleasure that courses through him when Bull brushes against his prostate. He hisses softly when the fingers scissor inside him, but Bull is quick to capture his lips to distract him. Bull really does know what he needs, doesn’t he?

Their kiss breaks when Dorian has to tilt his head to the side to release a moan, Bull’s fingers slowly rubbing against the spot inside him. It seems that Bull enjoys the noises that he can coax out of Dorian because he keeps doing it, keeps the steady, slow glide of his fingers inside of him.

“Bull,” Dorian’s voice is hoarse as it breaks away from a whine. “Bull, please- no more teasing please.”

But the man just grins. “So polite now.” The way he says it makes Dorian want to both puff up in mock offense and sink into the praise. “Good boy.”

He releases a shuddering breath and looks coyly up at Bull, knowing he must paint a pretty picture: bronze skin flushed and slick, chest heaving, cock standing at attention, and Bull’s fingers stretching him open. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d love to have you inside me some time this age, please.”

Bull snorts, slipping another finger into the mage and enjoying the gasp he releases. “Polite, but impatient.”

“P-plenty patient.”

The Qunari shakes his head. “You’re supposed to take in the moment, lose track of time, lose yourself even for a moment.” Bull moves his free hand to the curve of Dorian’s back to match the arch. “Maybe next time we’ll try a blindfold and some restraints.”

Dorian nods frantically, feeling his orgasm approaching fast. “B-Bull, I’m not going to last if you keep this up.”

“Never said you had to, the nights still young.” Bull pulls away from him so the man can look at him. “Let go, Dorian.”

And he does. The pleasure spikes so sharply that it draws an almost pained cry of Bull’s name from his lips. His cum splatters against his abdomen and he tries to catch his breath.

“Damn, you’re pretty.” The Iron Bull mutters, refocusing on his efforts at making sure Dorian’s fully prepped for him. “You okay to keep going?”

Dorian manages to get out a pitiful ‘yes,’ still trying to capture his bearings. It’s weird that he’s still hard, hasn’t occurred since Rilienus, not that he’s complaining. Bull’s fingers are stretching him so nicely, but he wishes that he had Bull’s cock instead.

The Iron Bull should add mind-reader to his list of skills because Bull is suddenly pulling his fingers from Dorian. He feels open, his hole clenching around the sudden departure of the fingers that had spread his opening. He watches as the Iron Bull spreads oil across his length with a hunger that he’s kept under control until now.

“You ready for me, big guy?”

Of course Bull would still check if it was okay, Dorian thinks fondly with no small amount of warmth. He cares about people, about him. He reaches his arms out to Bull. “Come here, you big oaf.”

“Not the nicest thing to say to someone who’s about to fuck you.”

Dorian makes an amused hum. “Only said with affection, Bull.”

Bull rolls his eyes, but leans over him and hefting Dorian’s hips up so that his cock can drag along the crack of Dorian’s ass. He slowly directs his cock to Dorian’s hole and makes sure to watch Dorian’s face for any signs that he’s in pain.

It’s slow going, Bull’s shallow thrusts only a fraction of what Dorian wants. And he does. He aches for Bull to be fully seated in him, for the ache of being stretched and the warm, pulsating appendage filling him. Dorian carefully folds his legs around Bull and pulls them closer together. Bull surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, lets Dorian pull them together so that their hips are flushed against each other’s. Dorian might let out an elated giggle, not that anyone has to know.

But Bull doesn’t increase his pace at all now that his fully seated, instead favoring the small thrusts that light up Dorian’s nerves. He feels like little bolts of electricity are traveling through his limbs, his mind a pleasure filled buzz of Bull and desire for more. The Qunari strokes Dorian’s cock from the base to the tip, thumbing at the head and Dorian is gone in another orgasm.

The second orgasm is what triggers Bull to speed up his movements. What were once shallow thrusts turn into a hard piston, the man’s muscles flexing attractively against Dorian’s ass and the slap of skin echoes through the room along with the harsh panting.

Painful pleasure tugs at Dorian, his cock aching and spent, but he still wants. He doesn’t even know tears have escaped his eyes until Bull is kissing them away, his rhythm unbroken. Dorian desperately pulls the man into another kiss, their teeth clanking slightly. It doesn’t last though, both in dire need of breath and they pant against each other’s lips.

Bull leans their foreheads together. “Can you come for me again, Dorian?”

“I can’t, I can’t, Bull.”

Bull’s tugging at his cock again, matching the speed of his thrusts and Dorian shouts, the painful pleasure increasing. “Yes you can. You can do that for me, right?” His thrusts are growing erratic, but he isn’t slowing down. “Come on Dorian, just one more.” Dorian lets out a keen, his body trembling. “Cum for me, Dorian.”

It’s the way Bull growls his name that sends Dorian tumbling into orgasm for the third time. Bull quickly chases after his own orgasm and Dorian feels the warm cum splash against his walls.

They lay there, coming down from their high and Dorian could honestly stay there forever. Their bodies pressed together, warm and safe in a way that he’s missed. He basks in the moment, clinging to the recesses of their union that still encapsulate them.

He isn’t sure how long they take to catch their breath, but the Iron Bull carefully pulls out of Dorian and stands up from the bed. Dorian watches through lidded eyes as the other man goes to the corner of the room to a small washbowl full of water. The man first cleans himself up before dipping the clothe back in and bringing it over to Dorian. He cleans Dorian’s stomach first before carefully cleaning Dorian’s hole, being sure to catch any cum that has leaked out of him. He’d debated on whether to tell Bull to let it be, but he knows it’d feel disgusting later.

Besides, the care Bull is putting into this small act makes him feel special. He could even say loved, if he didn’t know how bad it was to delude oneself.

He tries getting up but is gently pushed back into the mattress. Bull gives him a playful smile that pulls at the scar on the man’s lip. “Relax, you don’t have to rush out.”

Dorian can’t help but match the smile, even though the words make his heart clench in his chest. “Perhaps a while longer will be alright.”

Bull nudges his shoulder and catches Dorian’s hand when the man bats back at him. He brings the hand to his lips and places a kiss on each knuckle. Dorian’s cheeks flush and he ducks his head so he doesn’t have to see the soft look that Bull is giving him.

After a while, when Bull is sleeping Dorian maneuvers his way out of the bed and gathers his clothes, dressing quickly. He spares a glance at the Qunari before he quietly leaves the room, his night with Bull coming to an end.

In an act of rebellion against his better judgment, he leaves his silky smallclothes on Bull’s floor.

 

The Iron Bull has no discretion, not that Dorian expected him to, but he wasn’t expecting him to bring it up in front of their party. Senna gives him a wide-eyed look and looks imploringly at Bull before turning her gaze back to him. He knows she’s asking if he told Bull about his feelings so he shakes his head. Senna’s shoulders droop and it makes her look smaller than she already is.

 

The thing he has going on with Bull continues whenever they aren’t out with the Inquisitor. Even once while they were, in the depths of the Emerald Graves where fireflies float around like balls of magic. Dorian finds himself falling more in love with the man each day, and he keeps it bottled up tightly.

He ignores Senna’s pleas to tell Bull how he feels.

He and Bull experiment more now, trying out different things to see what they like. Ropes are a classic for them, blindfold on occasion when they need to lose themselves in the moment, and on a memorable occasion fire licking at the edges of his mouth to imitate the dragon they had fought. He’d set the curtains on fire after the fourth round of sex.

He doesn’t anything has changed, but Senna renews her effort to get Dorian to tell Bull his feelings with a ferocity he’s seen targeted at when defeating darkspawn. And she keeps asking him about what’s going on between them.

“I’m just asking as your friend, Dorian,” Senna insists.

“Things are fine,” Dorian is surprised that he means it. Bull flirts with him openly and isn’t ashamed to admit they sleep together.

“But you have to know that something is there.”

Dorian sighs. “It’s something,” he concedes. “A whole lot of something.”

But it’s _their_ something.

 

He says it in a moment of post-orgasmic bliss, the Tevene rolling off his tongue. “ _Amatus_.”

Bull, who was running his fingers along his spine pauses, and he pauses, his eye twinkling in the low torchlight. “ _Kadan_ ,” the word rolls around in his mouth like marbles, his chest rumbling pleasantly underneath Dorian’s.

The meaning of the word is lost on Dorian, but it’s said with such affection that Dorian doesn’t doubt the weight of it, instead snuggling into the Bull’s chest.

 

Varric brings it up in a proposal for a book.

“Two worlds tearing them apart, Tevinter and Qunari, with only love to keep them together,” Varric said as they trekked through the Frostback Basin.

Dorian lets out a huff. “I don’t see how this is even remotely your business, Varric.”

Senna is grinning like a loon and he imagines if she were sitting down she’d have her chin propped up on her hands like an eager child. “I like it, Varric,” she adds.

“See, the Inquisitor can appreciate the makings of good literature.”

The Iron Bull rubs the back of his head and Dorian can see the makings of a blush on the man’s cheeks. Though that could be the cold. “Could you make it sound angrier? ‘Love’ is a bit soft.”

Dorian starts to object, but Varric cuts in. “How about passion?” Varric asked.

Bull lets the word mull over in his head before nodding. “Yes, that’s better. Love is all starlight and gentle blushes. Passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.”

Dorian thinks it’s both but he lets it slide for now.

 

When he finally admits it, tells Bull his feelings the man just gives him that soft smile and responds with the one thing Dorian has always wanted.

“I love you too, Kadan.”

He was finally enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! If you have time, I'd really appreciate seeing what you thought of the fic or if you liked a particular part the most in this fic. 
> 
> If you have any prompts you'd like to send to me, please send them to [cakelanguage](http://cakelanguage.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this first part! If you have time please leave a comment to let me know what you thought of this so far :)
> 
> If you have any prompts (or just want to yell at me IDK), send an ask to [cakelanguage](http://cakelanguage.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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